Yet Another Uninteresting Title
by kuniqs
Summary: Man I suck at writing this part


_ "Ai Lean.." _

Eileen bid her time at St. Jerome hospital. Recent horrors were away now, she smiled at pink clouds and azure sky out at the window. "Like in heaven.. " she through. Wonder when he leaves his seclusion to visit her? She owes him so much, and he finally should know there is someone in his life who knows him more than himself. The better part of her soul gave her satisfaction by letting others feel.

_ Where did I last heard that name? Oh yes, I tell you that I had a wife sometime. She died. And I had a son somewhere. He died also. Never mind. She was Ai Lean, he was.. . I learned how to ignore them, at least now. I know everything about you, my sweet. You deserved all of it, since you're a such literally and metaphorically goodness. Yes. You engross me with it, and equally fascinate. You're such different from all that stock below, similar to only few beings I saw in my life. Sinister beings, but you don't posses any danger to me. Besides loss of sanity.  
I.. I don't know where to start, even besides it's again my monologue. I didn't killed her, really. She just died, left me with my own demons. Her death is too painful to remember, so I let it be outside me. You cherish him, since he's a man of your dreams. Caring, brave and not thinking about himself when you're nearby. I'll try to mimic him best I can.  
You know, the problem with being a god is that you don't have anybody to pray to. Or to understand you. I'm the only one of my kind, really. There's nobody like me, meaningless how I thrive for that. No one of you people would understand my thoughts, unless in drunken state. Deer jumped in the snow, leaving flecks and glitter and fluff, tears blurring that sight. Only because mind of yours was designed differently. It's a pain I know, but I learned long ago to ignore it. I was mad, then rational, then mad, then normal again. After age of religious craziness, you turn into a rational one. Then again. Middle Ages, Renaissance, Baroque and the rest. Problem with you is that you don't live long enough to understand it. You can't break the cycle. You say I lost my mind? I'm the only one. How you can say I'm lost when there's nothing to compare me to? Sibilant love is sick to you. But things done by subconcious poets and such are beautiful for most of you. Isn't very close related love beautiful? Strengthened by blood. You, my dear, are in love with just your neighbor. Van Gogh cut his ear and only that made him a great artist. His paintings weren't anything special. He flowed himseld at the paper. But even kids could paint like him. Only his feelings and madness made him famous. I would be famous in your eyes because I perceive sister love as art. Gaugin felt love to early teenagers. He was a true artist. He was sick and different. He was sick. But everyone perceived only beauty in it. He didnt mind time restrictions. I have to. Actually not, but I'm drunked with something I cant understand - feeling to you. And him. And I don't care why I'm spelling nonsense in my mind. I'm just talking with myself because you won't hear me. Only me. I'm not interested in myself, no. Only in woman. I'm crazy, then I wasn't crazy, then I were crazy. Did I mentioned that before? I had, but I don't want to remember because I remember everything. That's my curse and boon. They made me that. Our superiors. Human beliefs say I shouldn't be under their control, but still little they know about this world. They made me perfect, really. Beliefs, or them? Both. Both in body and soul. Since perfection is subjective, I'm a flexible one. I'm a perfectionist, since I need to be. You won't remember, but I will. You forget everything after five minutes. It's my job. No imagination would be perfect for it, so they need me now. I can learn and adapt to you. You forget every flaw. I adapt to you, to how you would want it to be. Perfection is a double edged sword, really. It makes me good for the job, since I can't stand to not be better every time. But I can't also stop planning every move on the chess board for eternity, since I want it to be perfect and I can't choose between equal possibilities. It draws the game to a stalemate that satisfies superiors above, but not me. I hadn't learned how to plot and manipulate the strings when I had the freedom. Because no one of your kind stand a chance against my will. Now, I have a hard time thinking how to earn my own paradise. I can't do it with force - they are stronger than me on this field. I need to acquire your cunning. Every woman is attracted by it, but forgets when she gets feral. Thousands of years lay before you if you want to cut off from your animal ancestry.  
But I have time, instead of you. Time.. enough. Maybe too enough._

"Wonder if Henry will came to see her, preferably with flours." she was lifeless without his appearance. No other man was so kind for her. He was shy, but that made him more attractive. Made a woman feeling necessary in his life.

_ You like to believe they are protecting you. They are actually doing it. That's true. They make you happy. But at the cost of those like me. I said I'm only one of my kind? _

Her wish came into reality. He came to visit, spoken with the nurse a while and got the response by "5 minutes. Miss Galvin needs to recuperate in silence". He carried flowers. Her favorite.

_ It's impossible for me to understand why some of you wish hurt or loneliness after all you experienced. Maybe because I don't have to deal with such people. You can have everything here. But you call upon the personifications of woe, hatred and pain because you cherished their presence so much when you still cherished with vitality. Did I just answered myself? _

He sat on a hospital chair right at her bed, giving her the flowers. She smelled them. Ideal composition, made her dizzy.

_ I'm getting sober again. Sad isn't it? Think, we are those that give you happiness at the end, but all of you see us as those that torment you while you're alive. Our most benevolent and good lords had gave me this special kind of cleansing ordeal as a compensation for all I had done in my life. I'm forced to give you love. Because I gave love to so much women in the past, thing they never could get. You think it's what I would be expecting in Heaven? Not this. I had broken the oath to not mix species, but what kind of sin was this? Humans do so much more and most of them aren't punished properly after all. Just because Im attracting too much attention of our lords, most pious and benevolent. They torment, forcing to believe I have loved somebody so long ago. And dying everyday without it. Just like my victims. It's not my fault that you leave so much people seeking touch in this world. _

"I guess I'll have to find a new place to live now, huh?" She smiled mischeviously.

_ My every trait is meant to be useful to both sides. I taught you about my perfectionism, didn't I? I'm forcing myself to be perfect for you. I never before done that against any will. But Im doing it now, against my own. And won't forget anything. Absolute memory, really. I remember because I have to learn. I know everything about you, but I still must comprehend. How you like it. How I need to behave like you want. Theory and practice. The most interesting thing about you is how you admired Vannila Sky. There wasn't a week without replay. Disgusting.  
And, my memory was meant to sunder my will, to remind me that I'll never break outside of this. I remember everything, but I'm never sure when I was real and when imagined. I'm telling you my story everyday and everyday I change it slightly. Sometime I'll shout all the truth at you.  
You people die, and go to this hellhole when deserve it. Most of the time you have somebody in memory who is still alive, and can't "live" without him. Her. It's the time I get my job, at least before your beloved is dead, too.  
They're perfect, our superiors. I despise them and revere at the same time. Why despise? Because they're so nauseous pure, and they CAN make everything go without my conscious management, but they don't want to waste time for it. It's straighter to "rent" my skills. Why revere? Brilliance shines when it comes to torturing those they see as endangerment. Just because we're below. Literally and Metaphorically. Enough. I'm sober again. We both need to drink ourselves with empathy, aren't we? Why we are drinking? Because tomorrow we'll do that all over again! Around and around far aboveground. Above, my lad! _

He smiles shyly. He nods, and grabs her hand. "I.. I didn't had courage to tell you that before but.. thank you for taking care of me, Henry. I.. love you. Speak my name, sweet hearth.  
His face expression hadn't changed a bit.  
"I'll never let you down Ai.. " He paused. " ..lien"  
_ Still one small thing to master. Pronouncement. Master. Master.. _

South Ashfields Heights, midnight.  
Townshend was looking at faded photo. It was thoroughly defaced by rainy nights spend on Ashfield cemetery. He told his wife he was working then. Working at night photographing - how stupid she had to be to believe that? Night life made him quite depressive through all those years. Alcohol made it only worse, and hugging tombstones will quite likely kill him with pneumonia. He actually cherished with her - she was so similar. But not the same actually. Being drunken was a dual pleasure - his mind was clouded so much that only good memories came to him, but sometimes.. The bad ones stroke his hearth ten times as hard than when in sober state. And his arm still expressed pain - wrong hospitalization, shattered bone.  
The photo didn't actually described anything. For a normal person, it was only a wasted piece of good quality paper. But he could still remind himself anything that was there before.  
He was sitting in his old room. Abandoned it during older days, escaping his memories. But he finally came to moment where there was no place to go. And no more time. Warmth his outer self gave him was also dual - she was calming, but also reminded him that IT WASN'T THE SAME!. It'll never be the same. He couldn't stand the through that he'll never understand the being of pure emotion again. That his life will be almost void, filled only with images about one particular girl. He gave all his feelings to his now present beloved, but he could't rip out them completely.  
Unluckily, the outdated events in Ashfield height scared the hell out any promising tenant far away from room 302. Frank wondered about making a tourist attraction, but he gave up - it would remind everyone too much about "heroes" like Gein or Bundy and totally screw the reputation of his small business. He was angry about no profit from this room, so he was also happy to rent it even for a night to Henry. Without questioning.  
Frank was too old and raspy to came upon an idea that the guest would be able to do something stupid. Like loading a rusty revolver.

_ That one is for you, Cynthia. That for Jasper. For Andrew and you too, Richard. You deserve it besides how violent asshole you were. And that one is especially for you, Eileen"_

"Eileen.. What have you done to me? Why did you made me think that I'm not only a passing aquitance in your life? It would be your fault then." 

Gun was almost loaded. Henry thinked a bit and came into idea that he will not have the courage to repeat if something would go wrong. He had to pay respect to all of them. __

"The last one is for.. Hmm... Ten Hearth let it be"

"Mr. Townshend?"  
WHOA!  
Henry finally got awake.  
- "What was that sound?" - Henry asked the nondescript man sitting near him in the hospital. He quickly came back to his senses - "Nothing, nothing just a.."  
- "I understand"  
They enjoyed the silence a while, both to pick up themselves.  
- "Been nice to my daughter, Henry?"  
- "Was."  
- "And.."  
- "Will be, sir" He reflected himself.  
The nurse came out from nearby door. She turned her gaze to Henry.  
- "You have five minutes honey. She needs silence to recuperate"  
Then she leaved, deserting both.  
- "Time for dinner and my own woman, son." He chuckled. "My smaller girl needs you, too." - the man went away.  
Henry helped himself to stand with his both arms.

_ Arms?  
Did he forget that pain lasting with him for all these..  
_  
Sharp pain crossed his mind. He forgot about everything and stumbled to Eileen's room.

_ Sorry kid, but I've finally lost my patience with you. Thirty years too early, I know, but I felt pity for you. I won't waste time for all that modern diplomacy now. For the first time I'm running out of time, strange. How times have changed since... Now we need to compromise with your kind than just overuse force - because it spoils the balance, they say. Bullshit. All they need is an excuse for weakness. They never had the guts to treat you like that and don't worry later about paybacks. We endure all of it.  
The ancient pact made Heaven actually winning our little dirty soul rush. Terrifying.  
Ten Hearths, ha! That Walther was a damn one man slaughterhouse. Need to invite him for a beer sometime. You'll never know, my now not so poor Henry, how hard it was to hesitate. To not force you to say 'Incubi'.  
Now, since I have some freedom, I'll visit my lonely Seen Tia and family back at Silent Hill. Any way. _

The undescript old man walking through empty hallway felt sudden, sharp pain fading as suddenly, without a scar in remembrance. __

"Seen Tia" He said, knocking next door. __

Where did I last.. 

_ Disclaimer: I was really wasted with C2H5OH when I wrote this, so if you don't understand much of it dont blame yourself _


End file.
